


Only Nightmares

by theotherdesanta



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: F/M, Family oriented, M/M, Nightmare Fuel, Sad, This is why he wakes up screaming, Trevor is a perv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:29:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8027914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theotherdesanta/pseuds/theotherdesanta
Summary: A glimpse at the sort of Nightmares that have Michael De Santa screaming in the dead of night.





	Only Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> The song that inspired this is Paralyzed by NF.

_The landing pad sat barren compared to the chalky, archromatic landscape._

_Rows upon rows of weather-scattered forestry fenced the countryside with a nausea-inducing blur of nothingness, of transparency that offered too clear a view of the world he was adamant to abandon._

_His one lifeline to freedom seemingly ripped from shivering hands, Michael put a narrowed eye to the indentations littering the snow beneath his winter boots._

_Footprints, four or more interchanging lines that gestured there be others stranded as he was, who must've found the pad to be empty and continued on to flag down another form of transportation._

_Blindly he tried to examine the path they had made despite some messy attempts to scrape away the pattern of their shoe soles by having wildly swung a fallen tree branch through them, Michael could still point a finger at the rapidly disappearing tracks further away, noting the group's failure to lead him astray._

_Adjusting his coat to shield his face against the frostbitten cold, Michael then shoved both hands into a jeans pocket and hunched forward, root marching after a group of individuals he was subconsciously willing himself to shoot dead if they stood between him and his ride out of North Yankton, if they posed any threat at all towards him or his family's chance at a better existence._

_“The fucks that chopper?” He grabbed at his cell but the signal bar was empty“Yah said you'd come through for us, Davy”_

_Michael shoved it back into the confines of his pocket just as the mechanical whirr of a helicopter engine built up a vibration that shook the snow underneath him, the stick up man's one good ear perked up at the noise and he broke into a scatter-like sprint, throwing his arms in front of him and clawing to get back upright as to stop the aircraft taking off without him._

_His body went numb to what was unmistakably a gunshot ringing out ahead of him, the closer he came to reaching the source, the easier it was to capture the imagine of a person doubling over, dropping to their knees while blood gradually started to spurt from a wound in their head._

_Norton._

_Norton went face first into the thick lump of snow, it's chalky white pallor becoming a gradient of the lightest pinks to the deepest of reds, the back of his jacket was now splattered with parts of his brain as he laid there motionless._

_“Shit!” Mike skipped to a stop some ten feet from the scene, the chopper had already hit it's destined altitude and turned to fly off in the opposite direction of where Michael had come._

_He did not see the pilot, nor had had a decent enough view in order to even try and land a shot at the retreating helicopter._

_Michael leapt into a second run and dashed towards the F.I.B agent._

_“Davy!” Without thinking he stumbled and knelt down beside the fatally injured government bureau employee, bracing a hand on each of his shoulders to flip David over. “FUCKIN' CHRIST!”_

_It was a bold mistake as he recoiled hastily, falling backwards he pushed at the ground as a pair of dead eyes locked onto his, it was a clean shot from the back of the head, David had been killed instantly...if he assumed correctly, the guy probably hadn't seen it coming._

_“No. Fuck! I-I-god fuckin' dammit there's nothing here to--” Again he went in to retrieve the cell phone, remembering halfway that he was in the middle of fucking nowhere, surrounded by a fucking blizzard of all things and being chased by the local North Yankton police who'd not been informed of his deal with the feds just yet._

_However, flicking over the screen of his cell Michael realised that he indeed had one single bar, wherever the fuck he was, he had a bar worth of reception to call for help or at the very least call his wife and tell her he was okay._

_He did the latter, using shaky fingers he punched in her number and brought the cell close to his ear, Michael's heart rate steadied at the thought of hearing Amanda's voic--_

_The familiar ringtone created a wave of panic that gripped his intestines in a vicelike chokehold._

_Like a broken doll he crookedly turned his head to the side, listening close to the other cell's echo._

_Michael's heart shattered instantly, his sight latching onto a second corpse, this one wrapped in a fake leopard print fur coat that went just behind the knee in terms of length, however the bottom of the coat was frayed and had a long tear running up the back seam, coming to a stop just below a visible bullet hole._

_“AMANDA!”_

_Michael pried himself off the ground and bounded toward his wife's frozen body, not daring to turn her over like he did Norton as he couldn't take the look of death plastered on one of his own family members face's._

_He laid a hand over his mouth, breathing in sharply to stem the tears prickling his eyes, Michael wondered if that had been the reason for the choppers disappearance, had David whisked Amanda and the children to a socluded area to wait for Michael to return with the money, or had there been a different reason altogether?_

_Speaking of the children, he turned, calling out both their names, then in a silent prayer, begging for their safety._

_Sadly, having called out Tracey's name, he peered across the blinding white carpet of ice and felt every bone in his body go rigid._

_Similar to her mother, Tracey laid dead, once beautiful golden hair now caked in blood, sticking to the skin of her cheeks and clothes, shrouded in what he could make out to be her brothers winter jacket, but, the closer he moved to his child, Michael choked on the realisation that it was his youngest son's corpse draped over his sisters, in an act of chivalry James must've thrown himself over her to protect Tracey from the phantom gunman, only to perish alongside her._

_They each wore a bullet wound, Tracey's being on her chest, Jimmy's on his back, their deaths would not have come quickly as he looked at the angle and position of the shots made, just the image before him was too much to take in at once._

_Slowly bringing himself around...Michael looked at the carnage before him, his mind cracking under the weight of what had unfolded in his absence, the blood pouring from his wife and children who laid dead at his feet..._

_This was his fault._

\--------

“AHHHHH!!” Michael awoke with a bloodcurdling scream, Sitting bolt upright with hands tearing at his skull in a fit of pure unadulterated horror. 

There was a shuffling to his left, accompanied by the creaking of the bed and the hurried movements belonging to his bedmate. 

The petrified and heartbroken wails enveloped the condo, disturbing every animal, every neighbour and every homeless person living outside near the trashcans within half a mile radius. 

Trevor, having been watching his newly acquired 'blue movies' on the television when the noise broke his concentration, entered the bedroom and swiftly leapt to his partners aid, throwing overly lubricated hands on each of the conmans shoulders, squeezing them and not so gently shaking Michael to get him out of the nightmare. 

It wasn't his greatest method to handling this type of situation, however, it did have a high success rate as he'd used it countless times in the past, so he questioned the doubt gnawing a small gap at the corners of his mind. 

“Woah! Woah there, sugar. Ey, ey-ey-ey-ey-ey. Look at me. Cmon now, yer safe” He drawled, sliding both hands over Michael's forearms before entwining them around his head, nudging away Mike's own hands that were clawing at his tufts of chocolate brown hair. 

“Cmon” Trevor urged, kissing his temples “It's S'all-rite, baby. S'all-rite” laying his palm over the crown of Michael's head, he shushed the panicked gasping that his lover had fallen into, unable to catch his breath or calm himself long enough to actually think about something else that didn't involve throwing his body into a catatonic stupor. 

Finally, Michael settled, his chest began to rise and fall at an equal pace and he could choke out a number of words, granted they all included the word “Fuck” but it was a small step leading up to the inevitable moment where he calmed down and was able to talk coherently. 

Though, soon as he started telling Trevor the contents of his nightmare, a steady stream of tears erupted from his sore, tired eye sockets, spilling over his cheeks and onto Michael's shirt as he wound his unusually cold fingers into Trevor's pussycat tank for comfort, soon throwing his entire face into the younger criminals chest to mask the fact he was still rather hysterical. 

Michael's breathing grew rapid again, losing it's steady pace to the struggle deep within his chest. 

He did his best to lay it out for Trevor, to express why he was so distraught and inconsolable while his lover just sat there, holding him impossibly close and stroking his hair with all the love one lowly meth-head could muster. 

Once Michael ran out of vital oxygen to continue speaking, he gave up all hope of making sense and kept his face hidden from the world, already loathing himself for allowing the whole incident to take place and fuck up his appearance more than the drinking and general ageing had. 

“Want me to call 'um?” Trevor offered his phone as a sort of consolation to solving the problem as if a simple call would erase Mike's worries in a heartbeat and he could go back to sleep with the fear of having another nightmare. 

There was no reply to his question, so, Trevor took that as the go-ahead. 

Skimming his speed dial options he pressed on the fourth number in his list and hit the speaker option on his cracked android cell phone, holding it between them as it rang and then someone on the other line decided to be general and actually pick up this time. 

“What the fuck, Uncle T. It's 3 AM. I have foosball tomorrow” Jimmy's voice came through the speaker, sounding as annoyed as he was absolutely fucked. 

“Hmmmm, not anymore, Sunshine. Nah, you're having lunch with your dads tomorrow...well, technically today” Trevor announced, a hand still woven into Michael's hair, lovingly giving him little scratches like he was a well-behaved cat. 

“But Lamar said he was gonna teach me how to-” Jimmy began, loudly interrupted by his uncle.

“Lamar, Lamar! What's so great about Lamar?! You know he calls himself Beyonce in his sleep” There was audible, sleep deprived confusing in Jimmy's tone as he listened to Trevor's rambling, but the man took it as a sign he was about to pull his step-son/nephew out of whatever plans he had for the afternoon. 

“T, gawd, can we just schedule this for some other-” The young troll began. 

“Nuuupe! Tomorrow, gah! Today! Noon. Bring Tracey, whatever she's doing, tell her to drop it and get her ass here” 

“But-” 

“NO BUTS!. Now go back to sleep, then wake up, throw on something pretty and get yer fat ass in that car!” Trevor wasn't taking no for an answer, and both of them knew it. 

“Fine, T” Jimmy yawned “I'll meet chu guys later” 

“Sweet dreams, Kiddo!” with that he hung up, leaving Jimmy to catch up on his much-needed rest, especially since he was now gearing up to spend time with his dad and overly protective Uncle slash stepdad type person. 

Right then, Trevor craned his neck to look down at Michael, his expression softening as he met his partners moist, puffy face. 

“They're alrite, Mikey. Like always. No way you're gonna get ridda them that easy” Trevor cooed, feeling his partner give him an appreciative squeeze. 

“Thanks, T” The older one hiccupped, holding onto him a little tighter than he preferred to admit he was. 

“No problem...Sooo you okay for me to leave, Jessica was just about to get her ass fucked by Rodgers evil twin” 

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm back with a new fic for the week and a bit of news for everyone, so hold onto your hats. Or balls. Or both. 
> 
> In terms of News: for the last couple days, I've been feeling very shitty since my arm hurts and the fact that my sister is now dragging my ass to the GP (Local Doctor) for a check up on friday.  
> I know it's just pain, like I was given the okay via doctors and nurses and the xray's that showed no broken bones or fractures, but the pain is keeping me up still so she's taking me for a routine check and then we'll see if they can do anything or just gimme better pain meds that don't make me want to throw up.  
> Good thing is my cut is now completely closed up, no blood or goo, just skin...and still looks like a vagina. 
> 
> Other news is that I'm going to be writing a few Ned/Steven fics, don't worry, I found the real people section of AO3 so it's gonna go there instead of clogging the gta section.  
> More than my shitty fanfiction already does, anyway. 
> 
> Thirdly, bit of news is that I'm going to be revamping my idea for Five Nights At Levi's, a Fnaf fanfic I jotted up years ago but never got to write, but I am now so it's cool! 
> 
> Fourth and I think last, I'm going to be setting up a SoundCloud account for live readings/voice acting bits, a few people recommended it to me and explained how it worked so I'm all for it. Leave comments/suggestions on what you want me to do with that, when it's done I'll post a link in the notes here so you guys can go check it out. 
> 
> Okay, i think that's it.  
> Health wise I'm just in large amounts of pain, to accompany that I also have a cold thanks to the germ bags at my sisters work so now I have a sore throat, yay! 
> 
> Once again, thank you all for the love and support, and the kind words following my accident, and No Trevor, you cannot lick my arm!  
> I'll be back later with the update for BBB, it's just taking time I'm working between the pain, writing and not dying. 
> 
> Okay, catch you on the flip side, homies. Piece! L. M, out!


End file.
